Minimalism
by Bason
Summary: Little is never too little, when it's enough, OR the story in which Emma is going down the wrong trail, one bad decision at a time, while Regina is the woman that slowly re-rails her life, one query at a time. Slow-paced…extremely, slow-paced. F/F, eventual Emma/Regina romance. Title might change. Rating could also change.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** These characters don't belong to me, but you already knew that.

 **Author's Note** : It's been far too long.

 **Warnings** : lesbian romance…eventually.

 **Summary** : Little is never too little, when it's enough. It's all about perception, dear. F/F, eventual Emma/Regina pairing. Title might change.

 _ **TWO THIRTY SEVEN**_

Every single day at two thirty seven in the afternoon, when the sun began to lower and the children were freed, Regina saw the same young girl walk before the shop window and stare longingly at the most hideous thing she had been forced to display in her store. It was a supposedly leather jacket, neither red nor scarlet, a kind of brick colored thing that came with the winter collection. The policy was that she ought to show every single article sent to her, or none at all. It was ridiculous, but Regina had given her word to the intriguing up and coming young designer. She would expose them all, and if she just happened to sell the only one she actually despised first then, all the better for it. She never really thought that someone would like it, but then again, in this part of the country where bizarre and unique were often swapped for one another, it should have come to no surprised that someone actually would have.

That someone was a rather odd girl as well. Slim that she was, to the point that she would probably lose herself in the jacket, and pale, to make herself paler or the jacket redder once she wore it. She did not look particularly stylish that one could say, she likes it because she's a trend setter. By this time next week the whole town will be asking her for another, and another and another, until Regina's vision at two thirty seven was nothing but a continuous smudge of red. No. She liked it because she adored it, simple and profoundly like that. It could be seen in the shine of her eyes. Like a child with a loved teddy bear. She would probably wear it every day no matter how inappropriate it was for the occasion, or on the contrary, wear it only on a special occasion, saving a sacred space for it in her closet where she might gaze at it from her bed, behold it every afternoon, catwalk before her mirror, return it to the closet, and so the routine would go on until the jacket disintegrated; if the glimmer in her eyes was anything to go by.

Regina never approached her, never asked her if she would like it, because though she tried her hardest to not be prejudiced, it was obvious by the ripped jeans and faded band shirt, the ruptured backpack that held by only one strap and the unkempt blond braid that the girl could not afford it. Could not even afford attending school if not for it being public. And thus, Regina continued to watch the unusual girl while accommodating a rack of clothes, from the smallest to the largest, as to make it more appealing yet practical. She was rising from selecting one more cloth to add to this specific rack when she saw the absurd power play high schoolers still partook in.

A taller black-haired girl walked behind the blond, with all the exaggerated confidence her young voluptuous body would allow. In a swipe of her right arm she both pushed and loosened the lonely backpack strap that held onto the girl's shoulder making it fall almost to the floor, if not for her quick reflexes. She caught it by the elbow in the same instant she turned to glare at her aggressor. An aggressor's aggression well veiled behind a charming smile.

"Hey there Emma!" she sing-song. One, two, three girls behind her chuckled. "Shopping?"

Emma, Regina heard, squinted her eyes dubiously, a glare between her eyebrows.

"I'm not sure that's your color hon", to anyone who heard, the brunette sounded empathetic, but to Regina who could clearly see the malicious glint in her light brown eyes, it sounded like the taunt it was. She took her box of clothing and surreptitiously moved to a closer rack.

"What's it to you Therese?" Greenish-blue orbs turned to glare at the jacket they had once observed adoringly, and Regina wondered if she should do something. It was not the first time she had witnessed the play. She may have been part of it in the past, though now, a decade or so gone by, she could not quite place the scene in her history. Had she been an instigator, or the instigated? The lines sometimes blurred.

They were quite clear here tough.

"How crass! I only wanted to give you some fashion advice." She looked her over, from head to toe, and continued, "It's clear you need it."

Emma's glare intensified. "If I needed it, I would have asked for it! From someone who actually had fashion, of course."

Regina bit the inside of her cheek, the girl had spice. With teared jeans that barely covered a flimsy body, her height not nearly enough to protect her against four vicious girl, and yet instead of cowering she tensed her backbone. A twinge at the left of her heart made her feel impressed.

Therese would not be deterred though, her eyebrow rose along with her tone, "I'm just so charitable, ain't I girls?" She looked to her squad. Two of them giggled stupidly, while one acquiesced like a preprogramed robot, "So charitable!"

Emma just rolled her eyes, because really, not even Regina with all her renowned wit and love for banter could find a reply to such idiocy.

At having no response, Therese continued on. She moved closer to the slightly shorter girl, placing a manicured hand on her shoulder. Regina could almost hear the growl that the blond held back. "You know Emma", she drawled, "Given your circumstance, no one would really blame you for just… taking it." She shrugged towards the jacket, as if it were nothing, as if she had said nothing. A nonchalant take of a candy bar given on Halloween.

"What?" Incredulous the blond sounded, that her school-mate would say suggest such a thing.

"What?" A tone of innocence that Regina knew had never truly resided in that mouth. The brunette glanced about the establishment, inspecting more consciously than the health inspectors had done a few weeks ago. She neared her mouth to Emma's ear, and though Regina could no longer hear what she said, she could imagine just by the glance the girl herself gave to the place. "Think about it Emma. It's easy picking. The store is small and there are no security cameras, just one employee, and let's be honest, you'll never be able to afford it."

Emma was released from the taunting grip, the voice easing away as well, but not by far, "Besides, can you imagine how you'll look strutting through the halls of school wearing that? We'll all know what happened but no one will say anything because you will have gotten everyone's respect. That's for sure!"

"Then why don't _you_ do it!" Emma challenged.

"What tells you I haven't?" Therese silenced her, because really, what told her or Regina, or anyone else that she hadn't. "That's the greatest part, you never know." She laughed, her friends followed.

Regina continued to move clothing from side to side, with wonder. It was a metamorphosis, the transformation in Emma's eyes. In the short span of that make or break conversation, Regina had seen in crystal orbs every emotion she believed the blond had ever experienced in her life: longing, confusion, suspicion, incredulity, illusion, hope, anger, despair…had the girl ever felt something nice? Had she any space in her heart for it? Regina wondered. How curious, how painfully intriguing. To the point that she little cared if the jacket got stolen or not. It was more of a _would she?_ Would she fall down that road…and would Regina allow it?

For the moment, Regina continued to observe as the brunette placed a loose strand of hair behind the girl's ear. "Think about it Ems. It would look good on you!" She smiled a pearly grin, and finally walked away.

Together they looked like a block of cells that had detached themselves from an alien cell they had finished devouring. What was that called? Phagocytosis? And yet there laid the remains of it. Close yet scattered. Would it be able to reconstruct itself, and if so, into what?

Emma watched them move away, as the blob of unicellular beings that they mentally were, and Regina took the opportunity for proximity.

"Would you like to try it on?" She said, unsure as to why she would propitiate a could-be-thief.

The girl was startled by her voice. Like a deer caught in headlights. Regina could practically read her thoughts, 'Did she hear? Will she call the police? What do I do?', but the woman who was ironically shorter than the high schooler only repeated, "The jacket, would you like to try it on?"

Emma shook her head quickly, as if she were shaking off the snow that had yet to fall that winter, "No! Thanks!" and just as quickly she left. Dashing to who knows were, but far off from the brick like red jacket she longed to keep.

Regina watched her disappear around a corner before she swept the thin veil of dust that had begun to gather atop the low quality leather of the jacket. Dusted off, she accommodated it to perfection, because if there was something Regina was certain, and she was not certain of many things, was that tomorrow at two thirty seven of the afternoon, its admirer would return.

 **Author's note** : I'm a bit rusty, yet I hope you enjoyed this prologue. Can't really tell you were this story is going as of yet, because i'm creating as I write. Do feel free to leave me a review please, constructive criticism, reactions, expectations, questions are all welcome as I am trying to improve my writing, plus i really like to know what my readers think. Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: This is my writing project. I've been reading "The price of salt", can you tell?  
**_

 _ **Wonder**_

If you were to think of a descriptive noun – an adjective? – to describe Regina Mills... Well in the first place you, or she, would not use the Mills. Not particularly out of spite, Regina did not have much against her last name, or whom it came from, not anymore. She simply did not care for it. So unlike her mother was she, who most certainly had cared to the point of insisting, no, demanding her own last name were used before her husband's. Therefore, making Regina: Regina Mills Rodriguez. Feminism or racism, you might wonder. Neither actually. Her mother was as far from a feminist as a non-submissive woman could be. And racism was out of the question taking into account she had married a non-white puertorrican man. The truth nonetheless was more along the lines of pomposity, distinction and status. All of which the Mills had, but not the Rodriguez. Why had her mother married so low then? Regina only wondered this once and after she thought it over, reached conclusion and angered herself for it, she opted to never think of it again, for it placed her mother in a rather unkind position, as well as filled her with feelings that were so unnecessary to her daily life.

However occasionally she revised some stories, even the foretold history of a woman with a selfish agenda. Usually when she found herself like tonight, alone on the second floor of her store, which also worked as her apartment. Although describing it as her studio was more fitting. It was a rather small space, as per her decision. Half the size of her clothing store actually. Had three rooms only, one of which was the bathroom which was slightly smaller than her bedroom. The kitchen slash living room was the biggest in the second floor. It doubled as a guest room, with a futon that took half of it. Not that Regina had many visitors. What with being somewhat new to Storybrook. The people she had invited over could be counted in one hand and rarely stayed the night. An old friend perhaps or a relative. More often than not she found herself like the moon in a starless night: alone. And alone as she frequently was, she pondered. And that in itself was the adjective you were looking for.

Regina Mills, pardon, Regina, was a wonderer. Not so much of legs and places, but of mind and thought. Many nights she lay as she lay tonight. Sitting on a small table she had purchased at a second hand store. Not because it was cheaper, but because it was perfect. Crystal clear top and stainless steel legging, not a crack to be found. Regina could not understand why someone had thrown it out. Luckily she had found it, payed barely ten dollars for it, and carried it in her bug of a Mitsubishi home. It was already assembled and everything. She had only to make coffee, sit and wonder. Every night from the first she would make a cup of coffee, not tea or hot chocolate, there were other times for those, but coffee nearly black because as it brewed and as its earthly scent went into her nostrils and the dark liquid warmed her lips, her mouth, her throat and the rest of her insides, as it engulfed her, it electrified her neurons, ignited them towards the ponders of life.

Regina loved to do just that. Sit with a cup of coffee and look at the night sky while she thought of the universe and our minor roles that became a cascade of actions and reactions. She thought of Storybrook and its diversity of residents, so different from each other yet similar to those in another part of Maine. She thought of her store and its progress, slow, like a snail pace, but stable and continuous. She was gratified by it, calmed by the routine of getting up every morning at dawn to have coffee once again, dress and lower herself to the first floor. Take the dust out of everything she had already cleaned the previous afternoon, fill the cash register and open the doors to the clients that would not be coming in until at least nine in the morning. It was not a problem to her. The hour or so she had uninterrupted in the morning was like a continuity of the previous nights musings. It also allowed her to do that other thing that she greatly enjoyed, for it presented the material for the wondering of the night: to observe.

Observe she did often in the mornings. From the chirping birds on the trees in the parking lot, to the boy who dropped the newspapers unceremoniously before the closed doors of the stores; even before hers that was open the newspaper was left outside. Regina watched as the sky began to turn from orange and pinks to yellows and light blues. Meanwhile, groups of people began to arrive in cars, two or four, sometimes just one old lady in a car, and Regina wondered if she could even see at that age, did she reach the pedals with the smallness given by that arch in her back? Did she not have grandchildren to help her about?

Indeed, Regina observed and wondered a lot. Usually she left the most profound pondering for the night, but sometimes they intermingled. Like for instance, when she glanced through the window of her second floor studio and caught a shadow by the front door of her store. Had she been anyone else she would have been frightened, but Regina was more curious than anything really. She abandoned her coffee for what she hoped was an instant and neared the woodsy square of a window and its sill. Sitting on it to get a better glance she peered down. The light from a lamppost by the parking lot illuminated most of the street and part of the sidewalk but it did not reach the window on the second floor, allowing Regina to observe without worry. She had an instant of a thought to retrieve her cup of coffee and lean back on the frame to watch what would unfold, but thought better of it once she caught a clearer glimpse of the figure before her building. The shadows obscured the facial features, but the streetlamp shone on the fair locks making them a beacon of its own.

How interesting, Regina felt it was, recognizing the thread of a backpack, the feeble clothing over a thin frame. She had not expected her for another seventeen hours, give or take. Yet here she was, standing before her shop, a look of indecision that Regina could not see, though she could very distinctly imagine.

And once again Regina was assaulted by wonders and questions. Would the girl try to steal at last or had she come to gaze only, unhindered by passersby, at that which she could not buy? Should she call out to the girl, Emma, was it? Scare her off this trail, or allow her to continue here with what she might do somewhere else? Would it be so bad to allow it just to rid herself of that horrid jacket? And yet, if this were to be a first occurrence, shouldn't Regina prevent her from falling down that road if she could? She could, Regina knew, at least in this incident she _could_ deter her. But alas, Regina didn't. Instead, she put her face closest to the window without actually touching it, and observed as the girl got rid of her hesitation.

Regina's store was just one of many along a lengthy succession of lookalike shops. Except that hers was the last in line. It gave her the opportunity to have a small balcony on the second floor by the right side of it; one that she seldom used as it became too hot and bright in the morning and too dark and frigid in the evenings. Nonetheless, it gave her intruder the chance to try her luck at unlocking the window that was below her balcony and, as Regina pictured for she could no longer see, break into her store. Perhaps she should have given more thought to the security of her establishment, but then again, this was Storybrook, the town where nothing ever happened.

Regina raised an eyebrow when she heard the distinct clicking sound of an unlocked window, and then the heaviness of a moving – thumping? – body onto her wooden floor. She measured her options once more, and upon decision her mouth moved of its own accord lifting a tiny smirk of amusement towards her right cheek. She made as little sound gliding over to the door and unfastening its locks to descend the stairs to the first floor as Emma should have made when breaking and entering. Though she had to admit that being barefooted gave her a stealth that squeaky snickers did not allow.

Reaching the last step, Regina lowered herself to assess her surroundings. Had she not already guessed, she still would have known the thief to have a premeditated objective by the swift movement of bright locks. In the darkness, with her unaccustomed vision, that was all the brunette could see. A head of shiny yellow that practically raced to the front of the store. Regina waited until fingertips grazed cheap leather before she spoke.

"I guess you changed your mind?"

Emma was startled, frightened, alarmed, all of the above and a little bit more. The gasp echoed throughout the close space, and the blonde hurriedly looked at what had been her entrance and now was her only exit.

"Don't even think about it". Regina said moving leisurely towards the window. She gave her back to the girl to close it properly, latching the latches and shaking it to make sure it would not budge. She turned once she was finished to find the girl unmoving. Her stance had relaxed though, as if comprehending the futility of any escape plan she had come up with, but her eyes were hard, stubborn blue challenges.

Regina stared right back, scrutinizing the girl, and wondering, wondering what to do with this girl who clearly had little to lose. What should she do with her, or about her, when it was evident the blonde did not expect much from someone like her. Or perhaps she should say, that the girl knew exactly what to expect from someone like her.

Even then, Emma did not know her.

"Had you asked politely, I might have given it to you." The brunette tried to whisper but it resonated loudly from the walls. She took a step forward, and no more, when she was the girl take a step back in synchrony with her own.

"As if." Emma's glare intensified and Regina saw more than heard the young girl's belief that nothing was free in this world. How sad for her to be so wise beyond her years, she thought.

"Maybe not, but I might have. Now you'll never know."

"How patronizing." Patronizing, a word youngsters felt more than said.

"Hardly." Regina was honest. She had little with what to be patronizing in the first place. Emma did not take it for truth though. She averted her eyes and shook her head, biting her cheek in the process; nervousness, Regina would be nervous in her place, afraid or angered, she would have been all of those too.

But it was none. "I'm sorry, will you just call the police?" It was resignation.

Regina tilted her head to the left, glancing over the girl once again. "No remorse?"

"What good will it do?" Emma countered. She sounded fierce, but brown eyes that had better adjusted could see a pale hand almost ripping the jeans in their grasp.

"It could help you to not be in this position again." A sensible conclusion, and yet Emma repeated the shake of her head.

"I can't guarantee that." Regina nodded slowly, appreciating the honesty.

Still she asked, "Why not? Was this not enough of a scare?"

"Only as much as the previous ones." There it was, the answer to a wonder: What if this was her first occurrence? It wasn't. And it obviously wouldn't be her last. Unless, perhaps, something went differently.

Regina gazed at Emma curiously. She wondered how many more responses she could get for all the new inquiries arising within her. That's why when Emma asked, "What do you care, really?", Regina held onto the question though it was so obviously hypothetical.

"How smart is it to be so rude to who holds your future in her hands?"

Emma tsked. "You can't hold something that doesn't exist."

Brown orbs widened slightly. "How melodramatic."

"You mean realistic." The blonde countered with vehemence. She stood less relax, but yet not ready to bolt; there was a suspicion in the brunette, that the girl really had nowhere to flee.

"Doubtful. You are what? Sixteen?"

"Seventeen."

"Seventeen and no future." Regina assented. "Care to share as to why?

Emma crossed her arms. The movement brought attention to the goosebumps on them, and Regina remembered the afternoon when it had been only slightly less chilly than the night and the girl's arms had also been uncovered. In neither instance had she trembled, but it was impossible to believe the blonde was not cold. Regina glanced at the jacket for a second, before a resolute voice brought her back. "There's not much to share.

"I disagree."

"You don't know me." Mastered defiance.

"And you don't know me." She kept her voice even, without lowering the obstinacy, for she had long known she had her mother's need to have the last word.

"I don't care to know you!" Emma threw back. This time it was Regina who bit her inner cheek in an effort to keep a smirk at bay.

She sighed with a small smile she failed to withhold, and said, "Strangely enough, I do."

And that threw Emma off, sent her flying in a loop, for it was unexpected. Unprecedented. That someone wanted to _know_ her. Not just…not just… She glared dubiously at the small woman who was still standing by the window. Regina's penetrating gaze left her suddenly to go look at a place by the end of the store. Emma thought that must be where she held the alarm button to call the police, or even a gun, that wasn't unheard off, but all she saw was a flight of stairs that rounded and disappeared.

"Care for some coffee?" She startled slightly. The piercing eyes were back on her, pining her to the floor.

"I don't like coffee." She said, and then thought better of it, "I mean, I tried it once, for the benefits, but I couldn't really down it. It was too bitter."

More than the words it was the need for addition, the averted eyes, and the tapping fingers over her arms that reminded Regina of the blonde's youth.

"Alright." She said, and turned on the spot. She unlatched the window and went as far as opening it part ways. "Hot chocolate then?"

Regina gave her a smile as little and as sure as herself, and then as if the cold wasn't sipping in with vengeance, as if a burglar was not in her store, as if she was not giving an escape to said burglar, she began to walk away.

Emma was of course, utterly bewildered. What was going on? Was this a test? Another thing she was not good at. What should she do? Should she make a run for it? Or stay? Ascend the stairs to the odd woman who said wanted to know her? There were lighting bulbs in her head. A memory of a "Beware of Kidnappers" conference given in class. A thumping of her hearth that was preparing her for fight or flight.

Which though?

Emma waited until the woman had disappeared from view to take long steps to reach the window. She closed it swiftly, before she froze to death, and without rethinking or reassessing her feelings, walked cautiously to the first steps of the wooden stair. She palmed the cool rail and gazed up. There was light and an open door, the sweet smell of chocolate filling the air, and a woman who'd said wanted to get to know her.

And Emma, who thought she had no better choice even if she had one, climbed to the second floor.

 **A/N** : If its worth it, leave a review! I'll be very grateful!


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